


A Spirky Christmas Carol (2014)

by IvanW



Series: Ivan's K/S Winter Holiday Collection [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Gay, Holidays, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2707625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvanW/pseuds/IvanW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock stars as Scrooge in this version of Dickens' A Christmas Carol<br/>Can he realize his mistakes before it is too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Present

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [A Spirky Christmas Carol](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3619914) by [qaroinlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qaroinlove/pseuds/qaroinlove)



> This is my Spirked out version of A Christmas Carol

Spock had grown up on Earth. His Vulcan father, Sarek, had been much older than his human mother, Amanda, and had died not long after Spock had been born. Rather than live on a strange planet with her half-human son, Amanda had returned to Earth to raise Spock.

He had been subjected to a lot of teasing as he went to human schools, mostly because he knew all the subjects better than any of the others. But also because he was different. And because of those differences, Spock had grown up despising Christmas as a ridiculous, frivolous waste. A human weakness that lost its relevance long ago. He did not understand the continued pursuit of it or why the Academy continued to shut down for the last few weeks of the years so that humans could indulge in such illogical pursuits.  

This year had been no exception. Spock was alone for the most part. He didn’t really mind. He taught at Starfleet Academy and generally he found making the cadets cower an enjoyable experience.

He had developed a fondness for a certain cadet. Cadet James Kirk. Kirk was highly intelligent, especially compared to his fellow humans, pleasing in appearance, and kind. Perhaps too kind, Spock surmised, for often his fellow cadets took advantage of his generosity.

Spock had guessed that Cadet Kirk had something of a crush on him and though Spock tried not to encourage it, Cadet Kirk began to hang around Spock more and more.

Two days before Christmas, Cadet Kirk had waited for the end of Spock’s last class, and all of the other cadets to leave, before he stepped up to Spock.

“Hey, Spock.”

“Cadet.”

Cadet Kirk licked his lips. “Well, um, Christmas is in a couple of days.”

“I am aware.” Spock knew he had trouble keeping the disdain out of his tone. He did not like Christmas. He would be glad when all of its nonsensical celebrations were over.

“I just-I thought maybe.”

Spock arched a brow. “What is it? Why are you stammering nervously? If you have something to say, just say it.”

Kirk turned red. “If-if you want to come to my apartment tomorrow, Christmas Eve, maybe you can, you know stay through Christmas. I could cook.”

Spock straightened and reached for his book bag. “I do not celebrate Christmas.”

“Oh.” Kirk turned redder still. “Well, you wouldn’t have to. You could still come over and I’d cook us dinner and—”

“No.”

“No?” Kirk whispered.

“It would be best if I did not even pretend to appreciate Christmas, Jim. I do not enjoy it. And it would be pointless to interrupt your celebration with my presence. I suggest you invite more appropriate companions over.”

Kirk’s blue eyes blinked rapidly and then he backed up a step. “Okay. Thank you, Professor. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“It was no bother.”

Kirk nodded. “I’ll see you after Christmas I guess.”

“Indeed. Good day.”

Cadet Kirk departed but there was no lightness like there usually was in his step, and his shoulders were hunched in.

Spock briefly wondered if he had been too blunt in his refusal. He did enjoy Cadet Kirk. More than any other, actually. It was Christmas he objected to.

Shrugging, Spock decided he would see James Kirk after Christmas and it would have to be enough.

****

Spock had his dinner alone in a small vegetarian restaurant. He was surprised when a new waiter came to take his order. He read the name tag.

“What sort of name is Bones?” Spock asked.

The waiter shrugged. “A nickname. But everyone calls me that. We have a Christmas special going on if you’re interested.”

“I am not.”

“Don’t even wanna hear it?”

“I do not like Christmas.”

Bones frowned. “Who doesn’t like Christmas?”

“I just told you that I do not.”

The waiter, Bones, rolled his eyes. “Why?”

“I have never much appreciated it, and if you must know my mother died on Christmas seven years ago.”

“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that. And on Christmas.”

“Her death had nothing to do with Christmas.”

Bones nodded. “But still. It must have made you a little bitter, right?”

“Bitter is an emotion I do not experience.”

“Oh one of those types, huh?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What will you have?”

Spock gave his order to the strange waiter and the man walked away. He ate quickly and got up to get out of the restaurant. Already noisy revelers were arriving for what appeared to be a company Christmas party. Spock wanted no part of it.

As he was rushing for the door a drunken Scotsman slammed into him coming through the doorway, knocking Spock into a tinsel covered Christmas tree.

“Oh! So sorry, lad. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Clearly,” Spock said coolly, pulling off a piece of tinsel that had attached itself to him. “And I am not a lad.”

“It’s just an expression.” The Scotsman grinned and held out his hand. “Montgomery Scott.”

“I do not care who you are.” Spock ignored his outstretched hand. “Get out of my way and take care not to knock others around.”

“Grumpy sort, are you? Ah, well. I’ll wish you a Merry Christmas just the same.”

“Be gone with your infernal Merry Christmas,” Spock said, then left the restaurant in an even worse mood than before.

He walked the short distance to his apartment and shut himself in good and tight. Spock had no intention of leaving his apartment again until after Christmas. He made himself tea and when he finished it he went into his meditation room.

Somehow, though Spock could not remember doing so, he must have fallen asleep because suddenly someone was shaking him awake. He sat up abruptly.

“Easy, easy, Spock. It’s me.”

Spock stared at the waiter, Bones, who stood above him, looking down at him. “Bones?”

“That’s right.”

“You are the waiter.”

Bones frowned. “For God’s sake man, I’m a doctor not a waiter.”

“What?”

Bones shook his head. “Never mind. I’m no waiter and you need to come with me.”

“Come with you?” Spock asked derisively. “I think not. You should not be in my apartment.”

“Yet here I am.”

Spock got off his meditation matt. “Did you break in?”

“What kind of amateur do you take me for? Go and see for yourself. Your door is still locked.”

Spock went to the front door and sure enough it was still locked.

“See? I didn’t come through the door. I was beamed here.”

“Who would give you the authority to do such a thing?” Spock demanded.

“I gave myself the authority. Now listen, you have to come with me.”

“Why do you look older than when I saw you at the restaurant?”

“Pay attention, Spock. I’m from the future.”

“The future.”

“And I am about to take you back to the past.”

“Long past?”

“Nope, your past.” Bones touched Spock’s arm. “Energize.” 


	2. Past

They appeared, Spock and the strange Bones, in a small apartment in San Francisco. The apartment was decorated for Christmas. The decorations were simple; a little red and green garland strung about and a small living tree in a pot upon which several gold and silver balls had been placed. Soft music played in the background and Spock recognized it as an old Earth Christmas carol. On a nearby table was a menorah with four of the eight candles lit. 

On a couch sat a dark haired woman holding an infant in her arms.

Spock knew the woman and therefore he was not at all surprised to see pointy ears on the infant. She was singing along with the song playing and the tiny Vulcan infant stared transfixed at her.

“Mother,” Spock spoke up, stepping toward her. “Mother, it is me.”

But she did not look up.

“She can’t hear or see you, Spock,” Bones said.

“Why?”

“She is only a shadow of the past,” Bones explained. “Anyone you see in this particular journey will be but a shadow. They can neither hear nor see you.”

“She looks so young.”

“It’s your first Christmas on Earth. She only moved here two months prior.”

“Is that why she looks sad?” Spock asked.

Bones nodded. “She misses your father.”

“Then she cared for him?”

“Yes and he for her. He’d been bonded before to another, a Vulcan woman. But she had passed away years ago. Sarek had not expected to find Amanda so late in life.”

“I had always suspected and hoped she had, but she did not speak of him often,” Spock admitted.

“Spock,” Mother said as she held the tiny hand of the infant. “Maybe someday we’ll sing Christmas songs together.” She laughed. “That would be so precious having a little Vulcan singing Silent Night. And maybe a Hanukkah song or two. My dad was Jewish.”

“You sure were a cute little hobgoblin.”

Spock arched a brow. “A what?”

“Never mind.” Bones smiled at her. “Let’s see another Christmas.”

Their particles broke up and they suddenly beamed to another location.

Spock recognized it as his first school. Eventually his mother had removed him from the school and taught him at home with the help of a Vulcan assistant, but at first she had tried to get Spock experience with humans.

“Not this place,” he said quietly.

“What’s wrong, Spock?”

“I disliked this place. They…did not accept me here.”

“Let’s see.”

They entered the school and walked over to a classroom. There was a teacher there, a woman with blonde hair. She was smiling down at some art project in front of her. Next to her stood a six year old half-Vulcan boy Spock knew very well indeed.

“This is so lovely, Spock. You’ve outdone yourself. Your Christmas tree is the prettiest I’ve ever seen in all my years teaching. It’s a work of art, really.”

Bones stepped close and gazed down at the paper glittery Christmas tree. Spock remembered it. And this day.

“It’s very well done, Spock,” Bones said. “Beautiful.”

“I worked on it for hours,” Spock said quietly. “I was proud of the results. Vulcans do not usually allow themselves to feel pride for it is often a false and fickle thing. But this…this I was proud of.”

“What are you going to do with it, Spock?” the teacher asked.

“It is a gift for my mother,” the small boy replied.

“She’ll love it. Run on home, Spock. And Merry Christmas to you.”

Little Spock took the Christmas tree he’d made and left the classroom. Spock and Bones followed him out of the school. There were three human boys waiting for him.

Spock felt the same uneasiness he’d felt that day so long ago. He reminded himself that it was over. What he was seeing now was not real. Not anymore.

“Look who it is,” one of the boys said. The ring leader. “The weird little half-breed.”

“What have you got there, half-breed?” Another boy asked, approaching little Spock.

“Nothing,” he replied, hiding the tree behind his back.

“Sure it is.” The first boy pushed him. “Let’s see it. Hand it over.”

“No.”

“Give it to us now!”

The third boy circled behind Spock and ripped it from his hands. “I have it.”

“Give that back to me,” Spock insisted.

The boys all looked at it and started laughing.

“It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” the third boy said with a laugh.

“Not quite,” the first boy said. “The half-breed that made it is even uglier.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” the second boy said. “I’m bored.”

“Okay.” The first boy tore Spock’s tree in half then threw it on the ground and stomped it into the mud. He turned and all three of them ran away leaving little Spock staring down at his ruined Christmas tree.

“I’m sorry, Spock,” Bones said, his eyes unbearably kind as he looked at Spock as he was now.

“It was no matter,” he said stiffly.

Little Spock picked up his ruined tree and threw it in the trash nearby. They watched him wipe his young face and then turn to walk home.

They followed after him until he got to the larger apartment he now lived in with his mother.

His mother greeted him with a smile. “There you are! I was about to mix the batter for the gingerbread and then—”

“I do not want to make gingerbread.”

“You-you don’t?”

“Negative. And I do not want to sing Christmas carols. I do not want Christmas.”

Mother looked startled. “Why not?”

“Vulcans do not do Christmas. I do not do Christmas,” the small Vulcan boy insisted.

“I see,” Mother said. “Has something happened, Spock?”

“No. I just do not like Christmas. I am Vulcan, Christmas is for humans.”

“All right,” Mother agreed. “Then we will not have Christmas. How about Hanukkah. We can light the-”

"I do not want any human holidays. I wish to live as fully Vulcan."

"Very well." She offered him a small smile.

Little Spock nodded. “I will go wash up now.”

The boy went into his room and Mother went to the kitchen and disposed of the gingerbread mix in the trash. There were tears in her eyes.

Spock swallowed. “I do not want to see any more.”

“We can leave here now, Spock, but there is more you need to see. Energize.”

Where Bones took him was not familiar. It was a cold, snowy place and there was a strange looking house that appeared to be a farmhouse.

“Where is this? I do not recall this place.”

“It is the past,” Bones said. “But another’s past. You need to see it. Come.”

They entered the farmhouse and inside standing beside a Christmas tree, that had tipped over and scattered broken ornaments everywhere, was a slovenly attired man and a young blond boy somewhere around the same age as Spock had been in the last place they had visited. He had bright blue eyes.

“Jim?” Spock turned to Bones. “Is this James Kirk?”

“Yes,” Bones said softly. “This is Jim.”

And Spock got the definite feeling that Bones knew Jim too. “What does James Kirk have to do with me?”

Bones sighed. “Much. Just watch.”

“Look what you did!” the man shouted in Jim’s face. “You knocked over the tree.”

“But-but I didn’t! You did,” Jim said, shaking his head frantically. “You were drunk and you knocked into it.”

“I’m gonna knock something,” the man snarled, and backhanded the boy across the face.

Spock growled and moved forward.

“I already told you, Spock, these are but shadows of what has been. There is nothing you can do to interfere,” Bones said.

The man hit Jim again, very hard, and Jim’s eyes filled with tears as his mouth started bleeding. Spock could not stand it. He wanted to murder this person, whoever he was.

“Who is this man?” he demanded.

“Jim’s stepfather, Frank.”

“Does he live?”

“In your time? I think so.”

“My time?”

Bones pointed to himself. “Future, Spock. Stay focused. Keep watching.”

“And just for that, you ungrateful brat, clean this mess up! I’m gonna throw out this fucking tree.”

“But it’s Christmas,” Jim protested.

“Who cares about fucking Christmas anyway? It’s time you grew up boy. Clean this up now. And you can forget presents too because of your damn mouth.” The man grabbed the tree by the trunk and carried it from the house, as more ornaments and decorations fell to the floor as he went.

Jim stared after him, tears streaming down his face and more than anything Spock could want right then, he wanted to comfort that boy. Hold him and tell him that monsters like Frank would never hurt him again.

That he could do nothing for Jim as this boy was very difficult indeed.

He glanced at Bones and saw the strange man wipe his eyes. “Come on, Spock. There’s more to see. Energize.”

Unfortunately the next place Spock recognized immediately. It was the hospital seven years ago and his mother lay in a coma in the bed, Spock standing beside her.

A doctor stood talking to Spock. “I’m afraid she’s had another stroke, Mr. Spock, and there appears to be no brain activity after this last one. Only the machinery is keeping her alive. With your permission we’ll disconnect the life support tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Why not today?”

“Today is Christmas. We thought you’d want to wait until tomorrow considering that.”

“Why?”

“Most don’t want their loved one to pass away on Christmas.”

Spock shook his head. “It is a meaningless day. It meant nothing to us. If my mother will not recover there is no point to prolonging her suffering.”

The doctor nodded. “Very well. I’ll get the staff.”

The doctor exited the room and Spock reached for his mother’s hand and kissed it.

“This must have made for a very unpleasant Christmas,” Bones said quietly.

“Her death was unpleasant no matter the day. The significance of Christmas meant little.” He paused, his throat closing with emotion he did not wish to feel. “I did not know then that Christmas meant so much to her.”

“We have one more place to go for the past, Spock. Come on.”

This time they appeared in a small studio-sized apartment. There was a tiny real Christmas tree in the corner with a brightly wrapped red package under it.

“Where is this?”

“Jim’s apartment.”

“When?”

“Earlier today after you refused his invitation.”

“But…this is the past?”

“The recent past, yes, but this has already occurred and you need to see it.”

The door of the apartment suddenly slammed open and in walked Jim Kirk in his cadet’s uniform. His face was red, his hair mussed and his eyes rimmed with tears.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jim declared, slamming the door after him. “What was I thinking? Why would Spock want to spend Christmas with me? Or any time? God, what a fucking loser. No one ever wants to be with me.” He dropped to his knees beside the tiny tree. He buried his face in his hands and Spock saw his shoulders shake and he knew Jim was crying.

Because of him. Spock had made Jim cry. Spock who wanted to protect Jim from those that made him cry was a monster himself.

Jim finally raised his face and stared with hate at the tree. “Guess I’m gonna spend another fucking Christmas alone.” He stood up. “No need for this.” He picked up the tree and smashed it down into a trash bin. He was still crying but his face was twisted in anger. Then he went back to the red package and picked it up. He stared at it. “God, I really am an idiot.” He tossed the package in the trash and then reached into the cupboard and withdrew a bottle of whiskey.

Spock looked down at the package in the trash. His own name was written on the tag. He could barely breathe for the pain constricting his side.

“I cannot stand this. Please take me away from here.”

Bones nodded. “As you wish.”

Spock found himself once more in the meditation room of his own apartment and there was no sign of Bones.


	3. Future

It took a moment for Spock to orient himself to the fact he was back in his own apartment, in his own familiar comforting space. He was still wracked with emotions he had long suppressed, including tenderness, sorrow, protectiveness, and affection.

If he did nothing else after this strange visitation, he would see to it that Jim’s stepfather never had the chance to harm Jim again.

Spock continued to sit on his meditation mat wondering if he’d had some weird hallucination brought on by the vegetarian fare or if he had really seen the things he had seen. It was true that the event with the tree he’d made as a child had happened exactly like that.

He did not know how long he sat there before he heard the sound of a transporter being activated. Bones appeared once more before him. Previously Bones had been dressed in jeans and a buttoned down shirt with a leather jacket. Now he wore black pants, boots and a blue uniform shirt with stripes on the sleeves.

“You are a member of Starfleet?”

“That’s right. I am Leonard McCoy, the chief medical officer of the USS Enterprise.”

“The Enterprise?”

“Yes. You are the first officer. Or you will be.”

“I do not understand.”

“Rise and come with me. I will show you.”

Spock knew better than to argue for he had a feeling whether he wished to go with Bones or not, he would be going. He rose and stood next to Bones while Bones said, once more, “Energize.”

Spock saw himself, somewhat older but not by many years, standing with a tall attractive black woman with a pony tail. She wore a short red Starfleet uniform dress and she had her arms around his neck.

“Who is this?”

“That is Nyota Uhura, your lover at this time.”

“What? Why would I be with her instead of Jim Kirk?”

Bones gave him a look Spock did not understand. “You’re asking me? From what I understand of the past, you shot Jim’s affections down every time he brought them to you. Eventually he gave up. You met Uhura at the Academy.”

Spock could not imagine doing that. There had to be a mistake.

“Listen,” Bones said.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to put a little Christmas tree in your quarters?” the woman, Uhura apparently, asked.

“I do not like Christmas, Nyota, as well you know.”

She pouted. “I haven’t given up hope of changing your mind.”

As Spock watched, Jim Kirk, the former cadet, and now certainly from the future, appeared from around the corner, clearly dressed in a gold command uniform shirt with Captain Stripes. He was heading in the direction of the woman and Spock’s future self, but they did not seem to notice him.

Jim froze in place, his expression could only be described as crestfallen. Spock, as he was now, wanted to go to Jim and tell him that no, it was not the woman Spock wanted, but Jim. He could not imagine wanting any other. But he could not seem to make himself move.

Slowly Jim turned around and walked away, while Spock felt his heart crack a little.

“Why show me this?” Spock asked hoarsely.

“So, you can see all that you have thrown away when the time comes,” Bones said ominously. “This part is my past, your future. Come, there’s more.”

This time it was Jim and Bones talking. Bones looking very much like the man with Spock. So much that it took a moment for Spock to realize that there were now two of them in the room and the Bones accompanying him had not begun to speak to Jim.

“I heard Spock broke up with Uhura,” Jim said to Bones. They were seated at a table with coffee mugs in front of them.

“It was the other way around from what I heard,” Bones said. “She ended things with him. He was emotionally unavailable.”

“Poor Spock.”

Bones snorted. “Poor Spock? You know as well as anyone that the hobgoblin is emotionally unavailable. How long have you been in love with him?”

Jim looked down at the coffee in front of him, his eyes sad. “Forever, I guess. Seems like it. Since I was just a cadet.”

“Yeah, so _you_ know. I’m surprised it took her this long to get rid of him.”

Jim bit his lip. “Maybe now is the time for me to tell him straight out how I feel.”

“Look, Jim, if you’re expecting some Christmas miracle where Spock tells you he feels the same way, it isn’t going to happen. He’s known how you feel for years and he chose someone else. I don’t want to be cruel, Jim. I love you. But it’s never going to happen for you with Spock.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Spock glared at the Bones standing beside him. “You told him that?”

“To spare him the hurt in store for him, yes,” Bones replied.

“You should have let him tell me.”

“You think that would have fixed any of this?” Bones shook his head. “You were totally closed off to Jim, Spock. He made you feel too much and you hated that. So it destroyed both of you.”

“What do you mean?”

A muscle jumped in Bones’ jaw. “I’ll show you.”

Suddenly they weren’t on the ship anymore but were in fact in San Francisco again. Spock recognized that they were outside an elegant hotel not far from Starfleet Headquarters.

Beside him, Bones tensed. His demeanor completely changed and he became antsy, agitated, and quite anxious.

“What is wrong?”

Bones shook his head and did not reply, but neither did any of the unsettled emotions change. He made Spock anxious.

“Where are we? What is happening?”

“We’re in San Francisco after our five-year mission. Jim is about to tell you he loves you.”

“And?”

Bones exhaled and clenched his fists. “Watch.”

They stepped into the hotel. There was a ten foot decorated Christmas tree in the lobby and to the right was a bar. Spock saw Jim sitting with Bones at a booth in the bar. He looked unbearably sad, like the day his stepfather had struck him across the mouth after the stepfather had ruined their Christmas tree.

“I can’t believe this,” Jim whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

“But to go to Vulcan to go through Kolinahr?”

“You know I’ve never been able to figure out the hobgoblin.”

“I have to tell him.”

“Tell him?” Bones asked with a frown.

“Tell him tell him,” Jim said with a wave of his hand. “He can’t just sit here in this bar and tell us he’s leaving us to go to Vulcan and expect me to just go, oh, okay, that’s great. Bones, I have to tell him how I feel.”

“Jim—”

“This is my last chance, Bones. I can’t just let him walk away.”

The Bones beside Spock became yet more anxious and Spock noticed his eyes were wet. Something very bad was about to happen. Waves of desolation and grief were coming off the man accompanying him.

Jim rose from the booth. “I’ll be back.”

“Jim, wait—”

But Jim ran out of the bar and back toward the exit of the hotel. Bones remained sitting at the bar. Spock wanted to go see Jim, he did not want to stay here.

“I am going after him,” Spock announced. And as he turned away, he saw the Bones that had been with him being absorbed into the one sitting in the booth. Spock ran from the hotel.

He saw himself, his future self, standing talking to Jim. They were very near the curb of the street and Jim had his hand on Future Spock’s arm. Spock could not hear them from there, so he got closer.

“Spock, please. If you’d just give me a chance, you’d see, maybe, you feel the way I do. Please?”

“Even if I did feel the way you did,” Spock said coldly, “you would not make an ideal partner for me.”

“But I could try—”

“No.” Spock pulled away from Jim’s grip and stepped out into the street. “I can never be what you want me to be.”

Jim shook his head, but then as Spock watched his eyes suddenly got wide. “Spock, get out of the way!”

Future Spock just stared. “What?”

“There’s a…move!”

Jim suddenly lurched toward Spock’s future self and pushed him hard until he was well clear of where he’d stood. As Spock watched with absolute dread and horror and so many emotions he was surprised he did not shatter, a hover car struck James Kirk and sent him flying into the air.

“No,” Spock cried even as his future self stared down at Jim lying broken and twisted in the street as though he didn't quite know what he was seeing.

Suddenly Bones was there kneeling beside Jim. He looked up at Spock, the Spock of the future, with tears in his eyes. “He’s dead, Spock.”

Spock’s world spun out of control and Spock attacked his future self. “What have you done? What have you done?” he shouted, wrapping his fingers around the throat of the other Spock. “This can’t be real, this can’t be real.”

And the San Francisco street winked out and Spock found himself lying on the floor of his meditation room, his hands wrapped around his own neck.


	4. Present

Spock removed his own hands from around his neck and rose from his meditation mat. There was no sign of Bones or the San Francisco of the future or the Enterprise. It appeared to be his ordinary apartment.

He left the room and noticed it was daylight outside, which was odd as it had been dark when he went to meditate. Was it the next day, Christmas Eve? Or had he been traveling to different time periods for even longer?

He spotted his PADD where he had left it, on his dining room table, and when he picked it up, sure enough the date read ‘twenty-four December’.

It was Christmas Eve. Perhaps he could find Jim and spend the day with him after all. The time said morning, just after eight, so Spock hurried to take a shower and dress, choosing plain gray slacks and a gray sweater. Not very festive, he realized, but Spock did not own festive clothing.

Remembering that Jim’s invitation had included staying through Christmas, Spock packed a small bag of clothing and personal items for the other days. He grabbed something quick to eat and then locked up his apartment.

He needed to make a quick stop at an old book store he was familiar with, and one other place, but when he was ready, he made his way to Jim’s small studio apartment. He had never been there, but now after seeing it with Bones he felt as though he knew it.

As Spock approached the door at just before ten in the morning, he hoped Jim was home. He did not want to have to track him down. He would, of course.

It took a moment or perhaps more, for Spock began to be anxious, before there was the noise of the slide of the lock on the other side of the door. The door opened and Spock held his breath.

Jim stood there—young cadet Jim, alive and beautiful—peering at him rather wearily. He blinked several times, before saying, “Professor Spock?”

He exhaled slowly, painfully. He could breathe again. “Cadet. Jim.”

Jim’s hair was standing on end in all sorts of directions and he smelled ever so faintly of stale alcohol. But Spock couldn’t have cared less. Jim was _alive_. Alive again. He hadn’t died while Spock was helpless to save him.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“You did invite me to spend Christmas with you. And I believe the invitation extended to Christmas Eve,” Spock replied.

Jim’s mouth dropped open and he gaped like a fish. “But…you said no. Didn’t you?”

“I have changed my mind and would like to accept. If permissible.”

Very slowly a smile appeared at the corners of Jim’s mouth and as he stared at Spock the smile widened until it brightened his face—actually the very hallway in which Spock stood—and he opened the door wide.

“Of course it’s permissible!” Jim exclaimed. “Come in.”

Spock stepped inside and it looked just as it had when he’d seen it with Bones. Even to the point he saw an empty bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter and the red package and tree in the trash.

Jim followed his gaze and instantly turned red. “Uh. I-I had a bad night.”

Spock set his bags down. “It is all right. We all have those. I had a bit of a bad day myself yesterday.”

“You did?”

Spock nodded. “One of the worst days of my life.” He went to the trash. “May I?”

At Jim’s nod he removed the wrapped package and handed it to Jim. Then he removed the tree. A branch had been broken and the ornaments were damaged but it was not completely ruined.

Spock took it to the exact spot where Jim had previously placed it and set it down, straightening it.

Jim bit his lip. “I kind of destroyed it. We don’t have to have it. You said you didn’t like Christmas.”

“I have said many things that I regret,” Spock said. “The tree stays.”

He went over to his bags.

“I think the ornaments are broken,” Jim said, examining them.

Spock removed a box. “I have purchased new ones.”

Jim stared at the box of tiny red, green, gold and silver balls Spock handed to him. “Wow. How did you—”

Spock handed a shiny green and red plaid striped package with a big red bow to Jim. “And here is a present.”

“You got me a present?”

“Is that not the normal practice?”

“Well, yeah.” Jim stared at the tag on the present with his name. “No-no one’s given me a present for a long time.”

“I know,” Spock said gently. “I intend to change that.” 

Jim’s gaze rose to Spock’s. “You just did.”

He reached into the bag again and removed the menorah he had purchased. "Perhaps we could place this somewhere also? My mother was part Jewish."

"Of course we can." And Jim placed it on the kitchen bar. 

“Shall we place the presents under the tree for Christmas?”

Jim nodded, smiling. “Yes.”

When they had finished putting the new ornaments on the tree, they placed the gifts under it.

“Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“Where is your stepfather, Frank, now?”

Jim looked a bit startled. “Frank? Uh. Riverside, Iowa, I guess. Why?”

“I just want to be sure that he cannot harm you.”

Jim frowned. “But, how did you know about Frank? Have I mentioned him?”

“You must have.”

“I don’t know why I would. I hate him.”

And so did Spock for that matter. But he would not come near Jim. Never again if Spock had anything to say about it. And he would.

“I didn’t go to the store to get anything to cook,” Jim admitted then, obviously wanting to change the subject.

“We will do that next,” Spock replied. “And also, I would like to get the ingredients for gingerbread.”

“Yeah?”

“When I was small my mother used to like to make gingerbread men. I thought perhaps we might like to adopt this practice.”

“Okay, sure. Sounds great. Whatever you want, Spock.”

Spock arched a brow. “Whatever I want?”

Jim’s blue eyes widened. “What?”

Spock produced a twig of mistletoe over their heads. “So if I wanted a kiss, I could claim one?”

“What? You want…seriously?”

Spock decided the best way to convince Jim was to kiss him, so he did. With the hand not holding the mistletoe, he grasped Jim’s jaw and lowered his lips to the younger man’s. Jim’s lips were soft and chapped and he tasted faintly of mint toothpaste. He flicked Jim’s lips open with the tip of his tongue, seeking deeper entrance within the soft moistness of Jim’s mouth.

Jim moaned against Spock’s mouth and linked his arms around Spock’s back, pushing into the kiss. Spock dropped the mistletoe and pulled Jim close.

“Grocery store later,” he said roughly against Jim’s mouth.

Jim just nodded as they moved toward Jim’s bed.

****

They decided to walk to the market for the things they wanted, both of them bundled up with coats and scarves because it was December and even San Francisco was chilly. They walked very close, side by side, but Spock was still entirely too Vulcan to hold Jim’s hand or anything. Fortunately, Jim did not seem to mind.

As they passed the vegetarian restaurant Spock had been to the night before, Spock paused in front of the door.

“What?” Jim asked with confusion.

“There is a waiter here. I would like to thank him.”

“Okay.”

They stepped inside and Spock went up to the hostess at the desk in the front. “Is Bones working today?”

“Bones?” she asked with a polite smile.

“He is a waiter here.”

“I’m sorry, sir. We have no Bones.”

“Leonard McCoy,” Spock said, remembering the name Bones had given him.

She smiled politely. “Sorry, no.”

He turned back to Jim, trying to hold in his frustration.

“Spock, who is Leonard McCoy?”

“A man who will one day become an important part of your life,” Spock told him. “He will be a very good friend to you.”

“Oh?”

Spock thought about it. “And to me as well.”

Jim smiled and reached for Spock’s hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze and then released it.

“Shall we?”

And they returned to Jim’s tiny apartment with many things. Oranges, nuts, a pine wreath Jim had insisted on getting, matching stockings Jim wanted to hang on the wall, since there was no fireplace, which he filled with small gifts he would not let Spock see. They bought the ingredients for vegetarian lasagna, and for the gingerbread men, which they spent the afternoon making and every one of the ones Jim made had pointy ears. He laughed when Spock pointed it out to him and Spock thought the sound of Jim’s laughter was beautiful. Perhaps everything about Jim was beautiful and to be cherished.

As they waited for the lasagna to bake, Jim brought the red package from under the tree to Spock.

“Why don’t you open it?”

“It is not yet Christmas.”

“You can open your stocking in the morning.”

“Very well.” Spock carefully undid the wrapped paper, being certain not to tear it.

Jim laughed again. “You’re supposed to rip it off.”

He arched a brow. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You just are.”

“Illogical.” Spock finished opening the paper and slid out a box. When he lifted the lid of the box there was a black and gray sweater inside. Spock touched it and it was very soft.

Jim now averted his eyes shyly. “You mentioned once that your mom used to make you sweaters. This one’s not handmade or anything, but I thought…you know, you might like it. If you don’t—”

“Jim.” Spock stopped him with his fingers on Jim’s mouth. “I love it.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “It is perfect.” He rose and went to fetch the gift he had for Jim. Now that he was faced with giving it to Jim he was not sure Jim would even like it.

Jim tore open the wrapping paper with a grin and then stared down at the hardback book in his hands. “A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens,” he said softly.

“The story has quite recently held new meaning for me,” Spock told him. “However, if you would like something else, I will obtain it.”

Jim shook his head, his eyes shining. “No, it’s perfect. I love books.”

“You are certain?”

“Very. Besides, all I really want for Christmas is you.”

Spock leaned his forehead against Jim’s. “I reciprocate the sentiment.”

He did not know how he’d gotten so fortunate to receive this second chance to make things right, but Spock was glad, very glad indeed, that he had taken it. He owed a lot to Leonard McCoy. The Leonard McCoy of the future who clearly loved Jim as much as Spock did. And if the idea that Spock loved Jim should frighten him in any way, he could not feel afraid. For Jim was here…alive.

Spock would keep the spirit of Christmas and of Bones in his heart for Jim’s sake and his mother’s sake.

“Merry Christmas, Jim,” he whispered against Jim’s lips.

Jim sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into Spock. “Merry Christmas, Spock. This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Spock nodded and closed his eyes. “Me, too.”


End file.
